


Sunshine

by ficteer



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Established Relationship, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 15:19:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6615598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficteer/pseuds/ficteer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abe wanted to keep it all for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> wow someone is hacking sam ficteer's account to post abemiha!!!!!!! because surely it's not like SAM FICTEER is posting anything........ .ha.... hah aha....... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> this is so vanilla but hey jazz hands am i right

 

“He has such a nice smile. I like him!”

Abe grimaced, felt the hard pull of his face. All three bowls of soba churned unpleasantly in his gut, sickening and gross. His fingers clutched onto his crutches, arms so stiff he couldn’t move even if his legs didn’t feel absolutely numb.

“…What?” Shun’s voice came, clawing Abe out of his shock. No, no - no, this wasn’t. This wouldn’t.

Abe exhaled heavily, turning away and forcing himself to move. “You wouldn’t get it,” he said, hobbling back down the sidewalk as much as he could. Shun would pass him no problem, if he wanted to. Could catch up and snag fingers into Abe’s shirt and pull and -

“What’s there to get?” Shun asked just as Abe felt the tug at his hip. “Taka!”

“Nothing, just let me go. I’m supposed to be resting,” Abe snapped.

The pressure at his hip disappeared. The pressure in his throat just got worse.

\----------

The thing was, Abe was Mihashi’s.

He’d thought about it once; if there was a word to describe what they were. ‘Boyfriends’ was a little stiff and performative, like they were doing it in public so people would see them hold hands and just _know_. That was kind of the opposite of what he wanted, actually - any kind of attention at all had Mihashi’s head spinning and a migraine forming behind his own eyelids. ‘Lovers’ was _definitely_ off the table - not only did it just _sound_ disgusting, it implied the kind of sultry evening heat he and Mihashi would probably take _years_ to get to and just made him cranky to think about.

(He shuddered to think of what would happen to Mihashi if he even _said_ the word.)

Dating was too little. Too small for the feeling that would rise in his diaphragm when Mihashi would come close, crowd into Abe’s space because he _owned_ it, because it was as much _his_ as if he’d taken a permanent marker and written his name on it. It wasn’t enough to describe how every piece of Abe screamed for the moment when he’d lean in, rub his nose against Mihashi’s and just _breathe_.

Mihashi just... _owned_ him, was the thing. Every piece of him.

And maybe, some days, Abe wanted to own him a little too.

\----------

Shun spent the next morning of Abe’s rest - not quite sulking, per se, in the sense that he wasn’t sitting glumly in the living room and staring balefully at his brother for being such a little shit about Mihashi’s smile. But he was definitely _something_ , some kind of. Well, Abe wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but it was obvious that whatever was going on, he wasn’t going to like it.

“You should invite Mihashi-san over again!” Shun said around lunch time, expression bright and souring quickly at Abe’s noncommittal grunt. “Taka, he came to see you yesterday and looked so happy. Don’t you want to see him again? Let him know you’re doing well?”

“Do I _look_ like I’m doing well!?!” Abe said, feeling his temper flare a bit. He shuffled just enough so the ice in the icepack would rattle enough to be heard. “Go do something useful and get me another glass of water.”

Shun went back to pouting - ah, there was the word, Abe thought - but he did as Abe asked, pushing off his feet and dragging them loudly across the wood floors. Whatever; he’d be the one touching a doorknob and about killing himself with static shock from his wool socks, Abe thought gleefully. A yelp from the kitchen had him chuckling deviously.

As soon as Shun returned with the glass of water - only four-fifths full, because Shun was nothing if not an Abe and therefore at least a little bit of a shit _some_ of the time - and left again, Abe closed his eyes and relaxed. The fan brushed his face with warm summer air every few seconds it passed over him, filling the room with the smell of grass and sunlight from the open window. He let the gentle buzz mix with the rest of the sounds - the weatherman warning people about the upcoming spike in humidity, the slide of melting ice against his knee, the inaudible scratch of his finger against his pants that somehow still made a noise in his head. What was Mihashi doing, he wondered, body so relaxed his eyebrows didn’t even dip into a scowl. Was he at the team meeting? Was he drinking enough water, so much that it sloshed out of his mouth and trickled cruelly down his chin? Was he licking the back of his teeth to get the taste of lemon from his drink to maybe share with Abe later?

Was someone else getting to see his smile?

\----------

The afternoon passed as dully as the morning had, though Abe didn’t even have the pleasure of Shun’s annoyance to help him make it go faster. As soon as his brother had slipped off to school and left Abe alone, the house had instead become his mother’s territory, rebounding with the sounds of her humming some jingle from that drama she was obsessed with and the chime hanging just outside the kitchen window. Abe had turned the television off sometime around lunch, a little bored with the mediocre programming during the day, but boredom had quickly overtaken him and it had come back on before long.

A small stack of papers at his right hip was filled with a few baseball plays he’d sketched out, entertaining him at least for the hour until he’d dozed off and somehow managed to knock his pen just out of reach. It had been and continued to be too much effort to reach over and grab it, especially since his knee was being more cooperative and had reduced to a dull throb that was just shy of pain.

He thought about what Shun had said, around four. How Mihashi had come, how Abe had seen his smile, how they’d talked _so well_. He swallowed thickly, glancing down at his phone and reaching out to it. His hand dropped heavily on the plastic, and he left it there for a moment, staring, letting his fingers feel the ridge of the side buttons before he flipped it open.

There weren’t any messages, but that wasn’t surprising. A self-aware conversation in his mirror a few weeks ago had let him know that he wasn’t exactly the kind of guy people would shoot the shit with, especially considering they had probably been in practice all day and would have spent their breaks trying to stuff their lungs back into their chests. And if he’d expected something from Mihashi, well, that was nobody’s secret but his own, and it had been enough of a fantasy that he wasn’t all that disappointed not to see it.

Y _ou should come over when_

_< \--_

_If you’re not busy you should_

_< \--_

_How’s your afternoon loo_

_< \--_

_Text me when you’re done_

is what he eventually settles on, closing his phone and putting it back down on his thigh. Unlike the traitorous pen, it wouldn’t roll away if he managed to fall asleep again, though he seemed to have somehow found his threshold for naps he was sure didn’t exist.

His mother was as much a savior as ever, however, coming in with his pain pill. He took it with a glass of water, closed his eyes, and within three baseball plays he was down for the count.

\----------

It was when he recognized different noises than what had been in the room all day that Abe woke, groggy from the medicine and a little achey, now. His knee had fallen open a bit while he slept, not at an angle awkward enough to reinjure but more than enough to press where it shouldn’t have.

“Shun, shut up,” he groaned, not opening his eyes until there was a small huffy noise. He blinked once, then twice, and then again because he wanted his eyes to be clear when Mihashi was this close.

“I, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to - to wake you up,” Mihashi said, fingers flattening out pieces of paper that looked wrinkled, likely while Abe was sleeping. A few smudges of ink on his right forearm told him the culprit. “I texted you back, but you didn’t answer, so I figured you were sleeping, and I almost didn’t come but Izumi-kun said I should and - ”

Abe groaned again, reaching his hand out so it dropped heavily on the top of Mihashi’s head. Mihashi jolted with the action like he was a bobble head doll or something, and Abe couldn’t help the huff of laughter at the thought. “You’re babbling, Mihashi.”

“O-Oh, I’m... Are you hungry?”

Closing his eyes, Abe shook his head. “No, but I should probably eat, anyway. Is my mom here?”

“Kitchen!” Mihashi extracted himself from beneath Abe’s hand, standing. “I’ll - I’ll tell her you - !”

Mihashi disappeared around the corner before Abe was really through with him, though he knew from experience that that was always the case. He sighed out, gripping the arms of his chair as he situated himself back into a better position. He grimaced as pain throbbed out from his knee, causing the cold sweat to break out on his forehead and his exhaustion wash away to be replaced with frustration. He relaxed back into the chair as much as he could, trying to breathe out the tension in his leg with each exhale and get back the easy dullness he’d had that morning.

He didn’t fall back asleep - the pain had made sure of that definitely not happening - but he did kind of doze off, enough that he startled a bit when there was a warm pressure on his forehead and a familiar smell of comfort.

“Taka, I ordered some dinner for you. Ren was sweet enough to tell me what you probably wanted. You okay with soba twice in a row?” his mother asked, and Abe’s eyes jolted open.

“Did he leave? Is he still - ”

“I’m - !” Mihashi’s voice chimed from behind Abe’s mother. Abe sighed out in relief before pointedly ignoring the way his mother got a devious expression while pinching his cheek. He swatted her away as best as he could, shooting her a nasty look that she returned gleefully.

She left, leaving a glass of water behind for him, and Abe looked to see Mihashi wiggling in his seat. He rolled his eyes, because _honestly_ , beckoning Mihashi closer.

“How is.... are you feeling?” Mihashi asked, walking up on his knees and getting close enough so Abe could breathe in and smell the generic shampoo of their locker room clinging to golden strands. Nothing so romantic as all the pain leaving his knee happened, but he did feel his muscles relax, and he exhaled into it.

“Better,” Abe answered honestly, glancing over to the doorway of the living room to make sure his mother wasn’t stalking creepily just around the corner. He could hear her puttering around in the kitchen, though, and Shun wouldn’t be home for a little while, so - “Hey, c’mere. No, come _here_.”

He reached out and twisted his fingers in Mihashi’s shirt, pulling until Mihashi’s forehead was pressed gently to his own. There was the warmth of a hand on his neck, callouses tickling his pulse where it skipped delightfully. There was a hint of lemon in Mihashi’s breath, just enough for Abe’s skin to flare red-hot as he shuddered into the touch. “Abe-kun?” Mihashi whispered, though it wasn’t quite the same kind of question Mihashi usually had in his voice, unsure whether he was allowed to interact. It was this kind of question, the kind Abe could answer by tilting his face up just a tad, just enough so their noses brushed and Abe could swear he could feel the texture of Mihashi’s summer freckles on his skin.

“Are... you going to kiss me?” Mihashi asked, after a breath, and Abe heard how his breath hitched even to his own ears, barely over how his blood was rushing and making his face feel as hot as it probably looked. God, _god_.

“Can I?” he asked, wrenching his grasp on Mihashi’s shirt, not sure how his voice could sound so much like begging without the word _please_. He didn’t even have to wait for Mihashi’s nod, didn’t have to decipher some tentative movement as either a _yes_ or _no,_ because Mihashi’s movement was immediate, unquestionable, undeniably affirmative. Mihashi’s hand clutched onto Abe’s shoulder, the other threading through his hair and gripping desparately. It was impossible for him to see it, but Abe could feel the change in shape of the breath against his mouth, the lemon-scented smile that was _his_ _his his his_ , and that was enough.

Abe brushed his lips against Mihashi’s, felt the gentle pressure of Mihashi’s mouth against his own, almost overwhelmed by how much Mihashi’s hand tightened in his hair. He kissed him again, then again, soft touches of his mouth exploring the shape of Mihashi’s shivers against him. The fourth lingered, wondering what to do next, thinking to his mother’s dramas and how they just seemed to _work_ and _know,_ and shouldn’t he just _know_. Mihashi’s grip slackened in his hair, and he felt the string of panic, not ready for the kiss to be done, no, Mihashi can’t pull away yet - but then Mihashi just got closer, his hand cupping the back of Abe’s head and _oh, oh._

“Miha - ” Abe gasped, his fingers finding the curves of Mihashi’s ribs, the rest of the word swallowed in the way Mihashi’s lips met his again, still so gentle but slanted just so, curving against his own. Mihashi pulled back and Abe made to lick his lips while he had the chance, feeling somehow shy that they felt chapped against Mihashi’s, only to find that Mihashi hadn’t quite pulled back enough and his tongue caught the seam of Mihashi hovering above him. The sound that came from Mihashi’s chest was like a hurt animal, almost frightening were it not for the way Abe felt every quiver of how Mihashi was fighting to hold himself away from Abe’s injured knee.

“We - Stop, we need, need to,” Mihashi panted, both hands now holding the back of Abe’s head, cradling it close as he pulled his mouth back but kept their foreheads pressed hard together. “A-Abe-kun, we - ”

“Hey, hey,” Abe said, low and sure. “It’s okay, we can stop. We’ll stop.”

“I don’t want - hurt you - ”

“Mihashi,” Abe said, rubbing their noses together, letting his hands trace calming lines down Mihashi’s sides, around to his back, following the curve of a spine he knew so well. “It’s okay. We’ll stop.”

A noise punched out of Mihashi’s mouth, a soft sound that lit Abe up and had him feeling dizzy with closeness. “I - I don’t, don’t _want_ to, but - do - understand? Do you - ? _Abe-kun._ ”

“Yeah,” Abe murmured, hands still rubbing tender circles in the soft muscles flexing beneath his sweaty palms. “I get it. I understand.”

\----------

Mihashi had tucked himself not quite against Abe, but unquestionably close, after that. The weatherman’s voice was different in the evening, a bit more upbeat for the people coming home from work, hoping to give them the extra bit of excitement they’d need to get up again in the morning to do it all over. The smell of summer from the window was the same, the hum of the fan still flirting with his sweaty bangs and mixing with the slush against his knee.

“Mihashi-san came over again today? I _missed him?!”_ Shun said when he came home, poking at the leftovers and now _definitely_ sulking. His chopsticks scraped against the bottom of his bowl, lips poking out and nose wrinkling cutely. “Why didn’t you text me, Taka?”

“Oh, right, you’d leave practice early to come see him? As if.”

Shun shot him a sour look. “Like you wouldn’t,” he jabbed. Abe shot his brother his best evil big brother smile.

“I wouldn’t have to,” he jibed back, and Shun’s look went _venomous_.

“He just has such a nice smile,” Shun said eventually, poking around at the last bit of his rice. Abe felt the frown come back, the sour feeling, the heaviness in his gut and the way his fingers curled defensively around the arm of his chair. “Plus, he makes you smile, and that’s nice.”

“Huh?” Abe asked, all of the fight leaving him as it was replaced with confusion. Shun looked at him like he was the worst big brother ever, though that was about par for the course between them.

“I’ve never seen you smile like that. Mihashi-san must be really nice since he makes even you look happy. Oh, look, the weather’s gonna be super nice this weekend!”

And with that, Abe got it, somehow - not in words, because _honestly_ , but he - he got it. His jaw closed from where he’d gaped at his brother, his shoulders relaxed, and he nodded, gaze going from the hand painted bowl between his brother’s fingers to the seven day forecast.

“It sure is.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
